We’re on a plane to Cascade, Washington. I understand the need for it and all, but I want my mother. I don’t want this Jim dude. I don’t want my cousins. I feel like a five year old, but I WANT MY MOMMY!!!!
It isn’t fair! A terrible coincidence (and other than this one, I still don’t believe in coincidences) has turned our lives upside down. Mom is…I don’t want to say was, but I have to, don’t I? Anyway, Mom is…was the center of our lives. In our tangled lives, she is…was our Rock of Gibraltar. I can’t even cry over it because I have to be the strong oldest girl. Strong one period, since we all know that Kev’s seriously messed up. I wish I could kill that stupid drunk driver. He wrecked our homes, our families. He even wrought havoc in our confidence and sense of selves. Sorry, I’m parroting what the shrink that the social worker made each of see said.
They say that most girls are Daddy’s girls. I never have been. Maybe it’s because Hank is such an asshole. Maybe I just have more in common with my mom than that sneaky, low-down, rotten filth who likes to masquerade as a nice, approachable lawyer.
Can I gag yet? I hate him, you know. I hate how he used to bully all of us and I hate that we let him. I hate that he nearly destroyed Mom. I just used ‘I hate’ too many times to make this entry even mediocre writing, correct?
Who cares? If they ever find this diary, I’ll be dead. That is, if I can figure out how Faith and I will keep Slaying. How is that I can’t even figure out how we’re going to do our calling?
I don’t want her to have an early death sentence. Fay wouldn’t if it weren’t for the Slayer-that-never-got-the-chance-to-be-a-Slayer. Okay, her name was Kendra. A demon attacked her the night the Master drowned me. Current guess is that the Slayer Spirit entered her for just a moment and then she died. If she hadn’t passed this death sentence onto my sister, I think I would feel sorry for her.
Whom am I kidding? Wait, is it who or whom? This is why I leave this diary writing crap to Wills. She’s smart. Me, I’m just the damn brawn. I accept that. Really, I do.
…Okay, I don’t. I am smart. I really am. I just don’t attend many classes anymore. Now that we’re going to be living with this mysterious cousin of ours, however, I have the feeling that that’s going to change.
Mom was always my sounding board. Granted, I couldn’t tell her of the war the high school students started after the Harvest. She was still there for the petty problems. I wonder how the war will fair without the Slayers. Will the Darkness take Sunnydale?
I don’t think it will, but I’m just a teenager. Mom would have said that my opinion counts too, but I’m not so sure. After all, I inadvertently caused the war.
I didn’t mean to, you know. I was just trying to protect everyone from the Harvest. And then here comes Xander and Willow. We ended up
…I keep apologizing to them. I dragged them into this mess, and their friend died. Xander never said it, but I think he had to stake Jesse. /sigh/ Willow told me once that Xander and Jesse used to play in the same playpen.
Some war it is. A grand total of somewhere around nine hundred high school students, ages 14 to 18, fighting for their town. So far, we’ve won against everything Hell’s thrown at us. My sitch with the Master was touch and go but we ended up winning that too.
We still have a body count though. Sometimes I don’t think that will ever change. I think that that’s going—I’ll continue this later. Kev’s upset over something and I think he’s in pain major.
May the Powers save me from stubborn, stupid, emotionally-fucked up teenage boys.